


give me a sign you're okay

by pendragoh



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, M/M, Michael is confused and worried, Rated M because of content, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Suicidal Tendencies, Vague Mentions of Suicide, luke is depressed, not sexy times sorry, only mentions of ash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragoh/pseuds/pendragoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He breathes against the glass, and his brow furrows when he sees what’s there, completely confused. </p><p>All that’s written, foggy and spotty in Luke’s messy handwriting, is ‘you were right.’ </p><p>What does that mean?<br/>-<br/>Or, Luke is depressed and cryptic and Michael just wants to know what's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me a sign you're okay

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys. this is literally the worst thing i've ever written, but i figured i'd post it since i spent time writing it. i got the idea from michael/luke's real life relationship because their year of hating each other is so interesting to me, i wish i knew more about it. anyways, i'm sorry for this fic. i haven't read it over either, so however many mistakes you see, they're purely mine
> 
> title is from memories by within temptation, i don't own 5sos, hope you enjoy x

Michael is sitting at the table in their tour bus eating some bland cereal, tapping away at his phone. He can hear Calum and Ashton playing X-Box in the back room, but he really doesn’t have the energy to go and join them. He’s had a headache all day, he ran out of aspirin, and to top it all off, Luke has been more annoying than usual all day.

Speaking of Luke, he hears movement in the only occupied bunk and faintly hopes that Luke will sense his bad mood and leave him alone. Unfortunately, Luke is about as perceptive as a thumb nail. He slides in the empty seat next to Michael and lays his head on his small shoulder, winding a loose arm about Michael’s waist.

“Come on, Luke,” Michael complains as tiny blonde hairs tickle his nose.

“Cuddle me,” Luke whines.

“I told you I wasn’t feeling well,”

“Cuddling takes, like, zero energy. C’mon, Mike, please.” Luke pleads, voice going a little weird toward the end.

“Not today, Luke, okay?” he tries, rubbing the hand not holding his phone into his temple. He still hasn’t reciprocated Luke’s embrace, staying tense and uncomfortable.

“Please—”

“ _Lucas_.” he snaps, patience thinning. “You’ve been clingy all day, go fucking bug the other boys, or something.”

It’s silent for a few more moments, until the weight on top of Michael’s shoulder slowly dissipates. Luke's fingers twitch on his thigh, but eventually he pulls away. Michael still stubbornly refuses to look at Luke.

“Okay,” Luke says, “Sorry, Mikey.”

He sounds small and shaky, so unlike Luke, and—okay, _no_ , Michael is not going to feel guilt because he said. He told Luke he was in a bad mood, he’d said he wasn’t feeling well, he gave Luke chances. It’s his fault for not taking them. (He still feels a little guilty, anyway.)

As he’s scrolling through his Twitter feed, he hears Luke deliberately breathe out against the window of the tour bus. The blinds are open today, and it’s given them a beautiful view of the cold, rainy forest they’re driving through. Normally they would keep the blinds drawn so fans wouldn’t see them, but since they’re traveling through a relatively rural area at this moment, they figured it would be okay.

The slick, squeaky sounds filtering through his ears clue him in to the fact that Luke has written or drawn something on the window. His head twitches to the left instinctively, trying to see what Luke has done, but he controls himself and keeps his eyes glued to his phone.

He hears Luke get up and walk away, but before he leaves, Michael says, “Luke?”

Luke turns around, eyes downcast and a little sad. It makes Michael’s heart hurt a bit. “Yeah?”

“Cal and Ash are in the back, dude, just hang out with them.” he suggests, trying to rectify the situation as much as he can without inviting Luke back into his arms. He _is_ in a terrible mood, and clearly he’s made Luke feel pretty bad, too.

“No, it’s…it was stupid.”

Before Michael can ask what he means by the incredibly vague and worrying statement, he climbs back into his bunk. Michael’s still staring after him five minutes later, until his brain remembers Luke’s picture on the window.

He breathes against the glass, and his brow furrows when he sees what’s there, completely confused.

All that’s written, foggy and spotty in Luke’s messy handwriting, is ‘you were right.’

What does that mean?

-

They’re onstage in some nameless city (they all start to blur after a while.) Calum and Ashton are talking to the screaming crowd, like they do every show. They’re introducing Long Way Home, which is one of Michael’s favorite songs to perform. He’s so glad that after weeks of begging, they finally added it to their _Where We Are Tour_ set-list.

As the opening notes begin to play, Luke looks over at Michael. He has a weirdly indescribable expression on his face, and Michael gives him a reassuring smile. Luke always gets nervous, and Michael does his best to set him at ease.

Luke starts to sing and everything’s fine, he sounds great, until he just stops. He stops singing and glances at his guitar, shaking his head. Michael glances at him worriedly, and sees Luke’s defeated grimace, and is incredibly confused. He doesn’t understand why there was a problem. Luke’s voice had sounded great, as always.

If anything, the fans get even louder. They scream Luke’s name, but it’s like it doesn’t even register. Michael can see Luke has gone into his bubble—he does it sometimes when he has disappointed himself.

As the song finishes, Luke walks over to Michael, forcibly relaxed. He brushes his long fingers over Michael’s brow and says, with a terrible look on his face, “You were right, Mikey.”

Again, he has no idea what Luke’s talking about, but this is the second time he’s said that. It must mean something to him. He thinks about grabbing Luke’s wrist and forcing him to explain, but then he remembers that they’re performing in front of thousands of screaming people right now.

The rest of the concert goes smooth as per usual, and by the time they get backstage, he’s forgotten all about the incident. He about to make his way toward their dressing room when Louis grabs his elbow and quickly asks, “Smoke up?”

Michael knows what that means, and nods his head. Louis gives him a feline grin, and scampers off to catch up with his band.

-

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but—”

Luke freezes as he takes in the sight before him.

Michael tries to stifle a giggle at Luke’s flabbergasted face, but fails. He bursts out laughing, and beckons Luke closer. When he’s within arm’s reach, he pulls Luke down onto his lap, wrapping his limbs tightly around Luke’s large, warm torso.

“Guys, guys,” he starts, attempting to reign in his giggles, “have you met Luke?”

Louis and Zayn burst out laughing, and Michael frowns. Had he said something funny?

“We already know each other, mate,” Louis cackles. “Are you forgetting that we’ve known each other for a year now?”

“Oh _yeah_!”

Luke loudly clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. Once he has it, he fiddles with his fingers until he timidly asks, “Can…Can I try some?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, until—

“Some _weed_?” Zayn sputters incredulously. It’s a well-known fact that Luke stays away from drugs and in most cases, alcohol as well. The fact that he even stayed on the bus after he realized what they were doing is a shock in and itself.

“Y-yeah,” Luke stutters, obviously nervous.

“Alright, mate,”

As Zayn packs a light bowl (for obvious reasons), Michael watches Luke. What he sees scares him more than he’d like to admit. He sees…nothing. There is no emotion on Luke’s usually expressive face. He wonders what’s wrong; he wonders when Luke stopped coming to him when something was the matter.

Zayn hands Luke the bowl, and he takes it with shaky hands. With a flash of confidence, Michael covers Luke’s hand and says, “Can I help you out?”

Luke nods gratefully, and releases the pipe. Michael palms Luke’s face with one hand, thumb rubbing tenderly at his cheek in a show of affection. “When I breathe out, you breathe in, okay?”

The other boy affirms with a head shake. His eyes are still blank and emotionless, but his face is set with adorable determinedness. Michael takes a large puff and then presses his lips to Luke’s in an almost-kiss. He slides his hands and blows into Luke’s mouth, feeling his neck expand under his palms. He feels Luke’s pulse beating rapidly, drumming a fleeting rhythm beneath his fingertips.

Luke’s eyes flutter closed, brushing Michael’s cheek with his soft eyelashes. Michael reluctantly pulls away, and Luke predictably starts to cough; as he’s rubbing Luke’s back, he can feel the weight of Zayn and Louis’ stares. They’re practically burning a hole into his cheek.

The night goes on, Michael and Luke take more hits, but eventually Michael stands up to take his giggly boy home. It’s been too long, he thinks, since he’s seen Luke’s small dimples, pretty pink tongue between his teeth. They stumble sloppily out of the tour bus, shouting goodbyes to Louis and Zayn, and make their way back to the hotel.

As he deposits Luke onto fluffy white bed, the other boy giggles madly. He mumbles bits and pieces of meaningless things as Michael brushes his teeth. Michael’s barely even listening to him until, “You know, you were right.”

Luke’s voice had changed in what seemed like a nanosecond, going from happy and lightheaded to serious and morose.

“Why do you keep saying—” Michael cuts himself off when sees Luke asleep, face smoothed down with the innocence of slumber. He spits out the foamy toothpaste in his mouth, rinses, and crawls into bed next to Luke.

He wraps his arms tightly around the younger boy, and noses behind his ear. “I wish you’d tell me what’s going on with you,” he confesses into Luke’s hair. Obviously Luke doesn’t reply, so Michael kisses his shoulder lightly, and falls into sleep.

-

Luke says, “You were right,” almost every single day.

And every single time, without fail, Michael replies with, “What do you mean?”

Not that he ever gets an answer, which is extremely frustrating.

-

“Luke’s in an extremely good mood today,” Calum notes.

Michael silently agrees, watching Luke where he’s playing a game of FIFA with Niall. Normally, Luke being happy would be a good thing, but with how he’s been acting these past few weeks, it’s more of a worry than anything. It’s been up and down with him, and it seems like there’s been much more down than up. All of which is making Michael stress out.

“What, isn’t that a good thing?” Calum asks, noting Michael’s facial expression.

“I guess,” Michael mumbles. “but he’s been acting so weird lately.”

“True, but doesn’t he always do that?”

“More than usual, I mean,” Michael relents. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Okay, so maybe he’s been a little…off, recently, but I wouldn’t worry too badly.”

Michael tries to end the conversation there, he really does, but now that Calum opened the doors he’s having a hard time closing them. There is still that one thing—

“He keeps telling me I was right.” Michael says. “‘You were right,’ is all he says. He’s repeated it to me about ten times in the last two weeks.”

“What does that mean?” Calum wonders aloud, thick eyebrows pressing together.

“ _I don’t know_ ,”

Calum hums. “Now that I think about it, Luke did give me his favorite guitar pick yesterday. I didn’t think it was too strange at the time, but now it does seem out of character.”

“Fuck,” Michael swears under his breath.

“What do you think it all means?”

“I don’t know,” Michael says truthfully, “but it’s freaking me out.”

-

It isn’t until repetition number nineteen that Michael finds out what’s going on.

-

Michael is lying in his hotel bed watching some stupid ass television show when his phone chirps. He checks the screen.

From: Lukey  
 _come up to the roof please_

He’s immediately confused and, though he wishes he wasn’t, worried. He changes into a t-shirt that doesn’t have Cheetos stains on it, and makes his way up to roof apprehensively. He pulls open to entrance, still stupidly surprised it’s open, and travels up the stairs.

The first thing he sees is Luke, sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling, and his heart almost thumps out of his chest.

“Luke, get the fuck away from that ledge,” he orders sharply.

Luke gives a sick smile, and swings his legs back and forth as if he’s on some amusement park ride.

“I’m not kidding, get away from there,”

“You were right, Mikey,” Luke says, glancing at Michael out of the corner of his eye as he stands to his feet, dangerously close to the edge.

Out of complete and utter fear, Michael feels a burst of anger work its fiery way through his body. “What the fuck does that _mean_ , Luke? You keep saying that to me, but I don’t understand! You have to—let me—help me understand, Luke, please.” he pleads, frustration dissipating as he finishes that last syllable.

“You were right to hate me all those years ago, Michael.”

It’s…it’s as if someone punched him in the stomach, because _what_?

“What?”

“You had the right idea,” Luke has the audacity to tease, self-deprecating smirk slithering on his face.

“I was—I don’t…”

“It’s okay; you don’t have to say anything. There’s not really much to say, anyway,”

 _Wrong_! Michael wants to shout, there’s a _shit ton_ to say because Luke…

“I didn’t…hate you,” Michael finishes lamely, because he can’t believe he has to explain this to Luke.

“Yes, you did,”

“I didn’t,” Michael insists stubbornly. “Luke, I had a fucking crush on you.”

Luke whips around so fast that it causes him to stumble backwards, harshly reiterating that _oh yeah_ ; they’re on the fucking roof right now, because _Luke hates himself_. He grabs Luke’s wrist lightning fast, squeezing so hard it has to be painful, and tugs Luke into his chest.

When Luke is finally steadied, he pulls away from Michael so that they’re standing a good four feet apart.

“Tell me you were lying,”

“I can’t do that,”

“You fucking have to!” Luke yells, voice croaking as he tries not to cry. “There’s no way that you… you couldn’t have.”

“I did,” Michael confirms taking baby steps toward Luke as he bobs his head up and down. “I _do_ , Luke.”

“No,” he hears Luke whimper before he covers his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.

“Luke, listen to me,” he starts, “Listen to me: I love you.”

“No!”

“I swear to fucking god, I do,” Michael pushes harshly, “I love you, Luke, please…”

He’s directly in front of Luke, now. He tentatively removes Luke’s hands from his face and intertwines them with his own; rubbing his thumb on Luke’s enlarged knuckles.

“Please,” Michael says again, “don’t do whatever you were going to. I would…” he shakes his head. He’s never been good at this; why do words have to fail him _now_? “I know this probably isn’t enough, but please, I love you so much. I would miss you so much if you were gone,”

That’s it. That’s all he can say. Those are all the words he can muster up. He prays to whoever’s listening ( _please please please_ ) that it’s enough.

“Michael…”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know this isn’t enough to fix everything, of course. But please…don’t leave me. It might be selfish, but. _Please_ stay with me, Luke, I’ll get on my fucking knees right now, I swear…”

“ _Swear_ you’re not lying.”

“Luke—”

“Or playing a joke on me,”

Michael stops short. “I’m an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“I love you,” is what Luke replies with, “and I’ll try and stay for you.”

And that’s—what else is there to say? Nothing, really, and he’s pretty sure Luke agrees, so he connects their lips together in a messy, cheesy, all-around not-too-great kiss. But it’s amazing because it’s with _Luke_ , and it’s salty and there’s too much tongue and Luke’s lip ring is digging into his bottom lip, but it’s about as close to perfection Michael’s ever really had.

He realizes that Luke isn’t better, and he knows there’s a tiring road ahead, but what can he say? They’re _taking the long way home_.

(Yeah, yeah. Shut up.) 

**Author's Note:**

> lamest ending in the universe? i thought so too. tell me what you think/follow me [here](http://subspacezayn.tumblr.com/) or [here](https://twitter.com/zalumsquad). please leave comments or kudos as well. see you next time! :-)


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